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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26572402">Renewal</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Xyriath/pseuds/Xyriath'>Xyriath</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Voltron: Legendary Defender</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Flashbacks, Gen, Past Torture, Violence, if you want to squint, very slightly implied shiro/keith i guess</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-09-21</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-09-21</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 11:07:42</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,072</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26572402</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Xyriath/pseuds/Xyriath</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>As the weight of the responsibility of saving a universe is about to come due, Shiro must grapple with the guilt of his past and learn to accept support for his future.</p><p>The final piece written for the Song of Heroes zine!</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>6</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Renewal</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Shiro’s head spins as he opens his eyes, groggy and sore, and he tries to swallow.  His mouth sticks, his throat burns, and he lets out a soft, low, groan.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Every muscle in his body aches, and the only reason he knows he’s alive is because even hell couldn’t be this bad.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His surroundings resolve into view around him, and his heart turns to ice.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Familiar mud brick walls, the gray sky above him, a chill seeping into the very depths of his bones.  Dark blobs sharpen into the forms of armored Galra guards, cruel weapons in hand, some watching him with an anticipation that leaves Shiro’s mouth even drier.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The camp.  No.  </span>
  <em>
    <span>No.</span>
  </em>
  <span>  He’d escaped—he’d been rescued—</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He grunts, trying to push himself up, but he nearly falls to the side, balance completely off kilter.  With a gasp, his back thuds against the wall, and he turns to look at his right arm.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Gone.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But—but they’d fixed it; they’d forged it, they’d—</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He goes to lift his left hand, to touch the stump, but that arm doesn’t move, either.  With a terrified gasp, he whirls.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s as absent as the other.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He yelps, feet scrambling at the floor as he tries to shove himself up, but a sudden thud next to him as a limp form is tossed into the dirt.  A flash of yellow catches Shiro’s eye, and he forgets how to breathe.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hunk’s eyes stare sightlessly up at the sky from a bloodied face, expression slack, body limp and motionless.  Not even the slow rise and fall of breath.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>No!</span>
  </em>
  <span>” he screams, but cruel laughter from around him drowns out the word.  Shiro struggles, but hands grab his shoulders, yanking him up, dragging him across the grounds of the prisoner camp.  They throw him, and his head cracks against the ground with a spike of nearly unimaginable pain.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hold him down!” comes the snarl, Galra dialect, and something heavy thuds into his gut, pinning him there.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He lets out another cry of agony, and a sword swipes down, cutting open his shirt.  It leaves a slice down his chest, shallow enough not to gut him but deep enough to burn.  Shiro struggles against it, but he can’t move, lying there helplessly as another guard approaches him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>When his eyes flick upwards, they lock onto a brilliant, glowing red piece of metal, moving closer.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Keep him still.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shiro screams again, trying to twist away, but the other two guards hold him fast, and the brand grows closer, closer…</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>No!</span>
  </em>
  <span>”  This time he begs, all of his horror at Hunk’s death, his despair at being recaptured, eclipsed by the terror of what was to come.  “</span>
  <em>
    <span>Don’t!</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But they show no mercy.  They never had.  The stink of hot iron fills his nostrils, invades his mouth, sends nausea sinking into his gut, and then it touches flesh—</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A horrid, sizzling sound; a burning stench; a white-hot pain that sears through him, and he </span>
  <em>
    <span>screams.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“Shiro!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He gasps, eyes searching frantically, but the guards are shaking him, the pain intensifying, and none of it seems to make </span>
  <em>
    <span>sense.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Shiro!</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But he knows that voice.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Keith?” he chokes out, and the words feel different this time.  More real.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s me, yeah; Shiro, come back!  You’re okay!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The pain fades, but only slightly.  He isn’t sure how he could ever be okay, not after what they had done, but Keith says so, so he has to believe it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He groans, and the pain continues to fade, even if it doesn’t vanish.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And then, he opens his eyes for real.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Keith’s face, the first real thing he’s seen in what feels like forever, hovers over Shiro’s own.  This time, the smell is different.  Familiar.  </span>
  <em>
    <span>Home.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, ancients,” he chokes out, sagging with relief.  “Keith.  Thank you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The walls of the cave where the Paladins had made camp gleam faintly from the banked embers of their campfire, just bright enough for Shiro to make out the sharp, angled features of the person that reminded him he was free.  He uncurls his right hand, and in its reflection, Shiro can see Pidge stoking the fire, brightening the cave.  The metal fingers trace over the brand in his left pectoral: the Galra </span>
  <em>
    <span>had</span>
  </em>
  <span> done this to him, not even the worst of their tortures, but he had survived.  He had healed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Physically, anyway.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He pushes himself into a sitting position, groaning, and a lithe, muscled arm wraps around his shoulders.  The comfort soaks through him, and he sighs, leaning into it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Encouraged by Shiro permitting Keith’s contact, the other paladins cluster around him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey, you okay?” Lance asks urgently, craning his neck to peer around Hunk, blessedly alive.  Pidge ducks under his arm, stepping closer.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Y-yeah,” Shiro croaks, running his metal hand over his face.  It warms as it touches his skin.  “I’m fine.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You sure?”  Hunk kneels, reaching out to take Shiro’s shoulder, angling him so that he can see where the sharp points of the knuckles on his metal arm had dug into Shiro’s chest, causing the pain that had plagued his dream.  “This looks… pretty bad—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shiro shrugs Hunk off, lifting his hand to cover the blood.  “I’m sure.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The tone of his voice brooks no argument.  They withdraw.  All of them except Keith.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shiro twists free gently, pushing himself to his feet.  His heart pounds in his chest with such intensity that he wonders if the others can hear it; it certainly shakes through every bone in his body.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He’s kept it together so far.  So why now?  Stress, maybe, but it isn’t as if the past months haven’t been stressful enough.  Though Shiro hadn’t been around when Hunk had found the Yellow Lion in the midst of an earthquake, he’d certainly seen the aftereffects of it, and the long journey of nurturing Hunk’s bravery had come to fruition not too long ago.  Add that to the task of teaching Pidge how to work with her own lion—when he’d only just barely met Black himself—and Lance’s constant antagonism towards Keith that had only just recently turned into something almost resembling tolerance, he should be no stranger to juggling worries and fears while still putting on a brave face.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shiro slips out of the mouth of the cave.  The fresh air fills his lungs, and he can feel his muscles unknotting.  He closes his eyes, tilting his head back and steadying himself on a nearby tree.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He runs his fingers up and down the bark, the rough sensation a steadying one.  Grounding him.  He’s here.  He’s safe.  </span>
  <em>
    <span>This</span>
  </em>
  <span> is reality.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Shiro.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His eyes snap open and he whirls, heart pounding until his mind places the voice.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Keith watches him, dark eyes taking in the sight of Shiro, the sweat on his brow and the mussed hair and the haggard expression.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They always seem to find each other again, don’t they?  It must be some sort of cosmic destiny drawing them like the strongest magnet.  Shiro still can’t quite believe the seemingly impossible chain of events that brought Keith to Red, then the rest, and then Shiro to them all.  It seems fate has always had it in her aims to bring them together,  make each other whole.  Shiro knows Keith extraordinarily better than anyone else, and Keith has always returned the favor.  He braces himself for a piercing protest, an incisive declaration—</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Bullshit.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shiro lets out a snort of surprised laughter at the profanity.  “What?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Keith crosses his arms, lifting his chin.  “You said you were fine.  That’s bullshit.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shiro scoffs, looking away.  “I told you guys, Keith—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And I know better.”  He steps closer, and Shiro has to look away.  “Tell me what’s wrong.  I can help.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shiro exhales, turning away and rubbing at his face.  Where to even begin, after everything he had gone through?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Keith’s hand reached out to take the cloth of Shiro’s shirt between his fingers.  “C’mere.  Sit down.”  He tugs, and they both sink to a sitting position on the forest floor.  Shiro feels steadily already.  “Talk to me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shiro sags, head flopping over to rest on Keith’s shoulder.  He glances up, staring at the stars through the trees.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I gave up,” Shiro says, voice quiet, as he takes in the silver pinpricks of light.  “When I was in the camp.  When I was… when things got bad.  I just…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The silence lingers between them, but for the first time in months, it isn’t laced with the judgement that had haunted Shiro since the escape.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And now?  It’s so much worse than just sitting in a prison camp, no matter what they did to me.  Disease.  Volcanoes.  Earthquakes.  And the war!  Keith, resolving these conflicts, it’s the hardest thing I’ve ever done.  Things are… we’re so close to the end of this all, for better or for worse.  And it’s not going to be easy.  What if I decide to take the easy way out again?  It’s my responsibility to lead.  If I decide that—that things are too hard, that I can’t do it, then that’s it.  We fail, and it’s my fault.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey.  </span>
  <em>
    <span>Hey.</span>
  </em>
  <span>”  Keith’s voice sounds firm and assured in comparison to Shiro’s stammers.  “No way.  You’re not gonna give up.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shiro scoffs.  “How can you know that?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Keith straightens slightly.  “Because.  I know </span>
  <em>
    <span>you.</span>
  </em>
  <span>  What happened in the camp—you couldn’t have </span>
  <em>
    <span>done</span>
  </em>
  <span> anything.  You told me, how much you tried, everything that failed.  That’s not on you.  And it’s not </span>
  <em>
    <span>you.</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shiro straightens, too, lifting his head.  “I don’t…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It isn’t, Shiro.  Waiting isn’t the same as giving up.  And sometimes waiting is all you can do.  That doesn’t mean that you failed.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You don’t know that,” Shiro says quietly, bitterness flavoring his voice.  “I could have ended things so much sooner.  Saved so many people.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And then what?” Keith challenges; Shiro feels him turn, but doesn’t look over.  “Maybe you escape.  Maybe you lead a rebellion or something.  Maybe you all succeed and return triumphant, but maybe half of everyone is killed and then the rest of you die in the wilderness.  No, I don’t know, Shiro, but you’re not the only one who can pull ‘what ifs’ out of your ass!  Worrying about it—it’s just giving yourself an excuse to feel guilty!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shiro finally turns, and—they’re so close, and Keith’s eyes watch him with so much trust, so much expectation, that he has to stand.  Wrapping his arms around himself, he paces.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m not trying to—Keith, please.  You know I’m trying my best.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A sigh from behind, and then Keith stands, too.  He reaches out, placing a hand on Shiro’s shoulder, and Shiro turns, tired in his bones.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I know, Shiro,” Keith says softly.  “And it’s amazing.  You’ve rescued people across Karthulia.  You’ve brokered a peace between Aschenwelt and Dilaw when everyone said it was impossible.  You’ve led us, shaped us into a team that’s more than any of us could have ever imagined.  Don’t sell yourself short.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shiro’s face softens, along with the relief in his chest, and he smiles over at Keith, the dread from the nightmare fading alongside the memory of the dream.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thank you, Keith.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He steps forward, and it's natural instinct to embrace, holding each other tightly, Shiro grounding in the familiar contact.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You're doing great, Shiro,” Keith murmurs. “We need you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And don’t you forget it!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The two of them leap into the air, springing apart, whirling at the sudden noise.  Pidge, Hunk, and Lance spill out of the mouth of the cave, hurrying over to stand in front of Shiro.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We never would have bonded so deeply with our lions without you,” Pidge points out.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And I never thought Aschenwelt would stop, but you helped us stop a terrible war.” Hunk watches him with big eyes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And after everything you've been through, that's more than anyone could have asked,” Lance finishes. “We're ready, Shiro. And you helped that happen.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The rest of the paladins nod, and something twists in Shiro's chest.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Keith turns to him, a soft smile on his face. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Just like he said. We're ready for whatever comes next. Are you?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shiro nods, once, but it's determined, and his eyes shine with a renewed resilience.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Absolutely. We've got this, team.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And this time, when Keith steps forward to hug him, followed by the rest of the paladins throwing their arms around him, Shiro grins with renewed confidence.</span>
</p>
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